Cynthia Howke from the Landmark Society contacted Peggi about a possible Don Hershey home in Medina, a really large house “designed for entertaining,” one she described as the first “first mid-century, McMansion in the Monroe County.” The house was being considered for landmark status and all indications pointed to it being designed by Hershey but confirmation was needed. Peggi found an entry in Hershey’s notes about a house in this location and we decided to drive out and take a look.
We really had no idea where Medina was but we planned to get away for a few days, maybe one of the Finger Lakes, and we decided to combine the trips. We made sandwiches with our leftover salmon and packed an overnight bag and got in the car. I was hoping Medina was to the east, thinking maybe we could stop there on the way down to Keuka Lake. We were on the Expressway when Peggi found Medina on the map. It was in the opposite direction of Keuka Lake so we nixed that stop and drove through the country and down along the east shore until we reached Hammondsport at the bottom of the lake. We found a room at the Lakeside Inn, the last room in fact, one that was only available because of a cancellation.
We walked around the entire town, stopped at a cemetery with grave stones a couple of hundred years old and got to where the town ends and the vegetation takes over. We worked up an appetite for dinner at Timber Stone Grill, locally sourced restaurant. We sat outside while maybe thirty local women gathered for their annual dinner inside.
Back at the motel we sat by the outdoor gas fire pit and watched the sun go down. We were joined by a couple from Queens who come up here every year and heard their delicious take on the stuff in our own backyard. Hammondsport really is like something out of an old movie, a town much older that movies themselves. Two other couples came out of their rooms later with drinks in their hands and they formed a semi-circle around the fire, across from us. They were from Baltimore but somehow it felt like we knew these people. It was like we were at either Peggi’s or my high school reunion. We were the first ones to head back to our room.
Instead of the artisianal breakfast spot that the motel manager recommended we went to a diner that was advertising “Belgium Waffles.” We sat outside at a sidewalk table and asked the waitress what Belgium Waffles were. She said. “Big.” We ordered scrambled eggs and toast.
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